The Unmaking
by teacupsNmints
Summary: What would have happened if Eric Northman had found Rosalie Hale that night in the alley instead of Carlisle Cullen? I wrote this for the Haiti compilation. Thanks to ALL who supported that project.


_**This is a Twilight/ True Blood crossover that has been haunting my brain for some time, so I wrote it for the Haiti compilation. **_

_**What would have happened if Eric Northman had found Rosalie Hale that night in the alley instead of Carlisle Cullen?**_

_**Disclaimer: Rosalie Hale belongs to Stephenie Meyer and Eric Northman belongs to Charlaine Harris (lucky wench!) I just hooked 'em up!**_

_**Thanks to HRHLadyEsme for jumping in as a last-minute beta!! She totes ROCKS!**_

**The Unmaking**

If I had a heart, it'd feel sadness and loss. I stood frozen, my flaxen haired angel moving swiftly through the trees despite my pleas for her to stop. I am a reasonable sort. I'd always known there would come a time when she'd have the need to move on...to leave me. A maker can only expect his child to stay for just so long. I think I even knew the time was coming upon us. I just couldn't accept it. I'd spent the past two years trying to convince myself that perhaps this was different; that our relationship was unique. But as I watched her move fluidly through the trees toward him, lowering her head to save him, I knew this was the end for us.

~*~

I remembered the night I first set eyes on Rosalie Hale. It was 1933. Her father worked at the bank where I did my business. He personally managed my assets; the money I'd made providing liquor to the wanton in the early days of prohibition. It was her engagement party. She was to wed Royce King, the wealthy son of the bank's owner. Although Alistair Hale could only speak highly of his daughter's betrothed, I found something deeply unsettling in the young man's eyes. After years of watching the behaviors of humans, I'd become quite astute in reading them. I could interpret a person's character within just a few moments of meeting them. It was all in their eyes. Godric, my maker, had often said that the eyes were the windows to the soul.

Easily the most attractive girl in town, she was simply stunning that night. But there was a sadness to her; something I couldn't understand. Dressed in a brilliant blue gown, her blonde tresses cascading down her back, she greeted her guests with a facade of warmth and sincerity; like an actor on stage. It was obvious Rosalie Hale was accustomed to being admired as she performed beautifully, flashing dimpled smiles at all her guests and thanking them for coming as she sashayed about the room in her ornate gown. The looks of jealousy and defeat on the faces of the other gentlemen guests told me that Royce King had earned a much coveted prize. But something didn't fit. It was as if the beautiful girl who tried so desperately to appear as if she had it all was missing something as vital to her as the air she breathed.

My arousal surged as Alistair brought his daughter toward me. She was the kind of woman any man would crave. She had a natural sensuality, only ignited by the innocence of her doe-eyed glance. If only her father had known the possible dangers he was exposing his daughter to at that moment.

It was a time in which my kind needn't hide. Vagabonds and adventurers were plentiful and unaccounted for in the lesser developed areas of wilderness, more than adequately quenching our needs. But a delicacy such as Rosalie Hale was rare and tempting.

"It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Hale." I extended my hand toward her, anticipating the softness of her touch...imagining how she might feel beneath me. She startled at the speed of my reflexes as I seized her offered palm, turned it over and brought the back of her hand to my lips. Fighting hard to conceal my now extended fangs, I gently pressed my lips to her warm, seductive skin.

She gasped beneath her breath, audible only to my ears. "Oh my." Her soft sweet voice caused my groin to ache.

"Rosalie, are you just going to stand there or are you going to properly greet Mr. Northman?" Even her father, who was standing at her side, was unaware we were already communicating.

Her voice was like that of an angel. "Likewise, I am sure. I understand you are a business associate of my father's, Mr. Northman."

"That I am. I have met your intended on several occasions, Miss Hale. He is a very lucky man. I wish you both all the best."

I watched as she walked away, her perfect derriere wriggling under the fabric of the gown. I let out a slow hiss in an attempt to release my tension, when I felt a hand grasp my shoulder.

"Look all you like Northman, but in another week that piece of ass will belong to me. Of course, for a man of your sizeable wealth, I might be willing to negotiate a price." Royce King laughed as he walked away, although I found nothing he said to be in any way humorous. His eyes held evil, and I knew evil.

I spent the following nights consumed with thoughts of her. During my daily slumber, she monopolized my dreams. It was on the fifth night, the evening before her intended wedding, that I saw Miss Hale again. I was crossing the town square rooftop to rooftop, as I noticed her below. She was with another woman and an infant. I watched Miss Hale as she gazed lovingly into the buggy before lifting a dark haired child out of it. She held him high above her head., both of them laughing and smiling. She bounced the child, causing its dark curls to dance. Cradling him close to her chest, she inhaled deeply. Miss Hale closed her eyes and pressed her lips to the top of its head before handing it back to its mother. She continued to wave to the child long after its mother had wheeled the buggy out of view.

Watching her sparked a rare memory of my own children, from a lifetime ago. My firstborn, suckling his mother's breast. The youngest, the girl, her arms reaching for me the last time I would ever see her. I winced, almost able to feel the longing evident in her eyes.

I felt compelled to stay with her as she moved through the square. She shouldn't be out there alone after dark. The irony made me snicker, as _I _was the most dangerous threat in the darkness. But something about the young woman sparked a sort of compassion within me...if such a thing were even possible.

From behind the next building I heard the familiar voice of Royce King. He was standing in the center of a group of about ten other men. They sounded drunk and belligerent. Royce was bragging about what he planned to do to his lucky bride on their wedding night. Some of the other men were chastising the groom-to-be for not having already bed the desirable beauty. They were questioning his manhood and sexual prowess. Some spoke explicitly of what they would do to Miss Hale, had they been given the opportunity.

Their conversation was not unlike many I'd participated in myself during my lengthy existence. It was typical for men to tell tall tales to impress one another, but something about their tone and the fact that Miss Hale was nearby caused me alarm.

I quickly descended to the street below, approaching Miss Hale from behind. She startled at my voice.

"Miss Hale, so very nice to see you this evening."

Turning quickly, she replied. "Mr. Northman, you startled me. I didn't hear you approach."

"I was out for an evening walk when I noticed you ahead in the distance. I called your name, you must not have heard me. A woman, such as yourself, should not be alone in the square after dark."

"I assure you, Mr. Northman, I am completely capable of caring for myself." Her body exuded confidence, but her voice told me differently.

Placing my hand on her arm, I urged her to allow me to escort her home. Trusting her instincts exactly as she should have, she fled from me.

Back to the rooftops I followed as best I could. She lost me once beneath the awned alley behind the market. By the time I'd found her, the mob of beasts led by the man she should have been able to trust the most were helping themselves to her...beneath her dress...right there in the alley. Her screams infuriating me, their laughter adding fuel to my fire, I attacked. As the lovely victim lay still on the street, I tore each gentleman apart, limb by limb. I drained each and every one of them right there in the square, no regard for passersby. I later disposed of what remained of them, but not before I tended to the angel in the street.

I lowered my face close to hers, in hopes up finding breath. She was breathing, albeit shallow. Overcome by a severity of emotion I thought myself incapable, I lightly ran my thumb down her face. I wanted to kiss her lovely cheek...kiss away her pain.

In an act of desperation, though I knew she was already too far gone, I ripped my own skin from my arm. Placing my fresh wound above her mouth, I forced my blood between her lips. Her eyes still open, unmoving and empty; she stared at me blankly. Nothing changed. Her breathing weakened further. Her body remained listless. It was as if she'd lost her will.

I did the only thing I could. I made her my own...my child...my immortal.

Lying together in the dark earth with Miss Hale was excruciatingly difficult. I held her, cradled her; carefully tucking loose tendrils behind her ear. With plenty of time in the blank darkness to think, I could not even recognize myself. Something within me was changing with this woman. I'd never been a maker at that time, and I was curious if Godric had felt any of the same emotions toward me all those years ago.

Rising from our earthy cocoon, I emerged with the most breathtaking creature. Quiet and unsure, Rosalie trusted me, relied on me...unconditionally. I taught her to feed and to control that hunger in public. And she taught me to move about the humans with grace...to earn their trust. A remarkable creature. I finally realized I'd been bewitched. The moment I met her I'd had no choice but to make her mine.

As time moved forward, our relationship changed from one of parent and child to something more. It began with glances that lasted a bit to long,...awkward silences...a touch as our bodies brushed past one another. I wanted so badly to feel her, to taste her. I imagined myself touching her breast...feeling her nipple pebble beneath my fingertips. I wanted to watch her eyes as my mouth engulfed the milky flesh. I needed to taste the inside of her thigh, run my tongue over her tender core...feel her body quake at the sensation. I needed this woman in a way very different from anything I'd felt with the innumerable women I'd previously sated. As time lingered on, I was unsure how much longer I could wait. I wasn't even certain how to make advances at a woman who had been once been taken so savagely. Would she remember that horrid night? Could I handle her pain if she did?

As my relationship with Godric had never inspired feelings of a sexual nature, I wasn't even sure if these were feelings I was supposed to have toward my own fledgling. Confused and frustrated, I sought out my own maker for guidance.

Always affected by our deep spiritual connection, I was immediately relieved upon approaching Godric. I knew he had the knowledge to solve my problems, as he always had. Only he held the answers.

"My child, you come to me filled with such confusion. What trouble brings you to me today?"

I knew, before I even spoke that he was well aware of my quandary, but I relayed the story to him as a formality.

"My son, I cannot express the pride I feel as you have become a maker yourself. I cannot wait to meet your fledgling. I am certain she is remarkable."

"She is, my father. She is unlike any creature I've ever experienced. That is my problem."

"That does not sound like a problem. It sounds to me you have been presented with a gift. That is something our kind is rarely bestowed."

"Is it acceptable for me to have such strong feelings...feelings of such an intimate nature...for my own fledgling?"

"The bond between a fledgling and her maker is strong...intense. She was chosen by you for a reason. Trust your instincts."

"But my father, I'm not sure what to do, how to approach her."

He smiled in way that instantly reduced my anxiety. "I have faith that you will know exactly what you need to do when the time is right."

"But if you could have seen her, Godric, when I found her. She was so torn and bloodied. How can I..."

"You will know, Eric. You will know."

Uncertainty still plaguing me, I asked "And , what if I cannot fight the urges? What if the need to take her overcomes me?"

My maker placed his hand on my shoulder, as a father does his son. Then he smiled as he spoke with worldly confidence. "If that were to be, you would not be seeking my guidance now."

All remained stagnant between us in our home. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months. Until, one quiet evening over a game of Parcheesi, Rosalie asked in a very quiet voice "How did you find me?"

I studied her face. Inquisitive and sultry, she was ready to move forward.

"Do you remember anything of that night?" I asked.

Her eyes darted from mine to the floor, telling me she remembered more than I'd hoped. "Some. The men...and your face. I need to know why you were there."

Horrid realization flooded me. Her memories were a swirl of that evening and she wasn't certain I'd not just been another predator.

I extended her my hand, which she took, and I invited her to sit on my lap. She complied, as I was her maker and she could not deny me. I cradled her paternally and spoke the words to her story. I explained every detail of her last night as a human; the baby she lovingly held as I'd admired her from the rooftops, the drunken conversation I'd overheard , how I'd tried to assist her home. I wanted to stop there, but she urged me to continue. She was ready and I could not deny her. I spoke of the words we'd shared and how I had frightened her. I retold of her running from me and how I'd not caught up to her in time. And I told her of the condition in which I found her. She cried her first tears of blood. I watched as they streamed down her cheeks, causing the empty space that once held my heart to constrict. I stroked her hair and whispered words of comfort. "I am so sorry, my angel. They cannot hurt you now. They'll never again hurt another soul. I made certain they expelled their final breaths that night as well. I am so sorry I failed you."

I look of shock on her face, she pressed her cool fingertips to my lips. "You did not fail me, Eric. You made me."

For the first time, she had addressed me by something other than "Father". I brought my palm to her cheek, attempting to wipe away the crimson liquid with my thumb. Her eyes slowly met mine and I heard her breath catch, as if she were seeing me for the very first time. Leaning close, I imagined how her breath might have once felt on my skin. Reaching toward her with my tongue, I lapped away her bloody sadness, like a lioness cleaning her cub She watched me with curious eyes and I witnessed her fangs extending for the very first time for reasons other than feeding. My Rosalie was aroused.

Cautiously, gently, I placed my hand on her chest. She looked down at it and back up at me with longing. We each began slowly removing our clothing. Admiring her complete form, I felt my own manhood spring forth. Her eyes widened at the sight. Slowly, I extended my hand toward her, watching her face for any signs of discomfort. She gasped as I brushed her nipple with my thumb, it pebbling beneath my touch. Unable to control my need, I took her into my mouth as my hands ran the length of her body; her arms wrapped tightly around my neck. I slowly moved her across the room to the chaise and gently spread her body across it. Placing my knee between her milky thighs, I worked my way up her body until I could almost taste her arousal. Dipping down, I ran my tongue along her folds, looking up just in time to see her eyelids flutter. Dipping in again, my tongue toyed with her most sensitive spot. The softest most beautiful moan left my angel's lips. I spent time there, kissing away all the pain others had caused ...righting every wrong bestowed upon her. My angel deserved that. Once her hooded lids and anxious moans signaled she could handle no more teasing, I moved up her body once more placing myself at her entrance. Leaning to her ear, I whispered "May I have the honor of being your lover, Miss Hale?"

More a gasp than a statement, she replied "Pleeease."

Slowly and carefully I lowered myself into her. The feel of her wrapped around my engorged member was ecstasy. We made love slowly, rhythmically for some time before our eyes met, prompting our movements to become desperate and lustful. Together we brought one another to climax after climax, ultimately collapsing in one another's arms.

Godric had been right. I knew when the time was right for us to further our bond, just as I knew the time would come to let her go.

~*~

I watched Rosalie, in the clearing, clutching the boy to her chest. He had dark, curly hair; reminiscent of the child she'd cradled and laughed with all those months before. Her eyes never left him. I called her name. She did not flinch. She was deaf to me. I knew then, she was his now. I watched with remorse as she lowered her mouth to his femoral artery. My child, my fledgling, was becoming a maker. She looked back at me only once, and I couldn't help but notice that the longing her eyes had held since before she'd even become immortal was finally gone. That was the moment I knew I must allow her to go.

I sat high in the treetops and watched as she dug the hole in which they would nurture their bond. I knew too well what her feelings would be for him. I saw the look in her eyes as she watched the grizzly destroy him. She would nurture him and teach him. She would love him with a power she'd never known. And he would become her lover.

I would always be her maker; her father. But I would never again be anything more.

As morning threatened to dawn, I took one last glance at the grave in which I was to leave my angel. Standing there, frozen without her, bloodied tears escaped my eyes. Sadness consumed me. It wasn't until steam began to rise from my skin that I turned to begin my existence without her.


End file.
